


beneath the blue moon

by CompoundCritical



Series: Kinktober [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: "Distension", "Overstimulation", "Size-Difference", "Sweat", "breeding", "non-con", Ass Play, Bottom Arthur, Bottom Arthur Morgan, Breeding, Day 20, Day 21, Day 24, Day 28, Day 7, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Distension, Dutch's wolf is a monster, Explicit Rape, Knotting, Licking, M/M, Neither can consent, Non-Consensual, Overstimulation, Prompt 20, Prompt 21, Prompt 24, Prompt 28, Size Difference, Top Dutch van der Linde, Werewolf Dutch, Werewolf Sex, Werewolves, Wolf Sex, Wolf Werewolf, Young Arthur Morgan, ass-licking, day 22, might continue this?, prompt 22, prompt 7, top Dutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26973028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompoundCritical/pseuds/CompoundCritical
Summary: He really should have listened to Hosea.Never should have followed Dutch out when he left camp like he did every month.Never should have followed thosedamnpaw-prints.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Series: Kinktober [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968427
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	beneath the blue moon

Kinktober 2020 #7: "Breeding"  
Kinktober 2020 #20: "Non-Con"  
Kinktober 2020 #21: "Size Difference"  
Kinktober 2020 #21: "Overstimulation"  
Kinktober 2020 #24: "Sweat"  
Kinktober 2020 #28: "Distension"

* * *

Every month, Dutch disappeared for three days.

Arthur hated it. It worried him, not knowing where everyone was. At least when Hosea went off, disappeared for a month or two on some con, he’d know whereabouts he was. The town, the area, so if something happened they could pack up and move, send a letter and grab him on the way.

But when Dutch disappeared, they wouldn’t tell him where he went. Danced around the subject and he was left to worry until the man finally rode back into camp, more ruffled than he’d ever seen him. He’d stagger over to his tent and collapse, sleeping for another day or two.

It scared the _shit_ out of Arthur, and Hosea felt horribly guilty, but it was best he didn’t know.  
  


Perhaps they should have told him.

Arthur had always been horribly curious, and he was _sick_ of being left to worry. So when Dutch left twice in the same month, he mounted up and headed out, waiting an hour after Dutch had left to lessen the chance of being caught.

He wasn’t the best tracker, but he was good enough, and just after the moon had risen he found The Duke tied down not far from a camp made in a cave - but Dutch was nowhere to be found. The campfire was still smoldering, a pile of furs ready to be slept on - but there was no one there.

“Hey, Dutch?” Arthur’s heart leaped into his throat and he crouched, looking for footprints of any sort, finding some that were very fresh and only barely thinking to tie down his mare before hurrying out to follow them on foot.

  
  


The prints became muddled, the dirt scuffed and flung around, mixed with the biggest paw-prints he’d ever seen, and Arthur was pretty damn sure he was going to have a heart attack. His voice cracked as he called out “Dutch?” and oh god, if Dutch had been eaten by wolves - the prints were bigger than a bear’s but he knew what a wolf’s print looked like and _that was it_ \- then that would be the most agonizing ‘I told you so’ anyone had ever said.

And maybe he shouldn’t have been so stupid as to call out so loudly right next to a wolf attack scene, because there was a _very loud_ snarl, louder than a goddamn bear roar, right behind him. He would never admit to how high he whimpered as he reached for his gun, turning around slowly and _holy fuck that was a big damn wolf_

_‘That’s no fucking wolf,’_

No wolf was that _fucking_ big, towering over him larger than a shire horse and built _strange,_ like a bear had a cub with a wolf, arms too long, rearing up and _almost_ standing like a man, resting on its knuckles. Its muzzle was too long, the fingers on the paws too thin and separated, and _jesus christ those eyes_

“Dutch?”

There was no mistaking those eyes. Those eyes were _human,_ no animal had that much white in their eyes, and that shade of brown was _so familiar_ and there was no denying it.

The wolf stopped snarling, made a whine that was more confused than anything, “Dutch… Dutch, that you?” and it stepped forward - he dropped his hand to his gun and

big mistake.

Big fucking mistake.

The wolf - _Dutch -_ roared, lunging forward and striking him with a trash can-lid sized paw, flinging him to the ground and sending his gun skidding through the dirt. He cried out his pain, curling in on himself and clutching his side, and _oh god what_ is _that_ was granted an absolutely wonderful view of the beast’s penis dangling free between its legs, throbbing and red, heavily veined and tapered at the end like a _goddamned dog’s_ and “Fuck!” the beast struck him again, knocking him onto his stomach and forcing the breath from his lungs.

“Dutch, Dutch it’s me!” and the wolf-beast made some strange sound, a huff as though to say _‘yeah, I know’_ and then he was freezing in terror, a nose cold as ice pressing against the back of his neck, snuffling so heavily it ruffled his hair. He would never admit to how he whimpered, freezing so heavily he trembled.

Finally it pulled back, and he allowed himself a breath. The beast - Dutch - rumbled, a sound that didn’t seem _aggressive_ so he was taken by alarm (well, more than he would have been) when it reached up and, in a swift move, grabbed his shirt in its teeth and tore it off with such force he was lifted off the ground. “Fuck!”

Its hand-paw-thing wrapped around his waist, holding his ass in the air, and a horrible idea began to niggle in his mind. _‘No. No, no way, Dutch’d never do that.’_

Dutch set his teeth into his denim pants and began to tug and pull, trying to work them off his hips, and _oh god no_ he began to fight, digging his fingers into the ground and thrashing, but a deep snarl tore from the wolf-beast’s throat, those yellowed teeth scraping his skin, and he went limp, fearful of those teeth so close to such a sensitive part of him, whimpering pitifully.

His belt, the only thing keeping his pants from being torn off, broke with a snap that _hurt,_ the metal scratching his skin, and his pants came off so abruptly his feet left the ground. _Nonono-_ “Dutch no!”

and then there was a tongue licking his ass.

He went limp, mind buzzing.

It was a very big tongue. Like Copper’s, but… well, big. It lapped over his cheeks again and again until, with a frustrated huff, Dutch brought his other paw forward and used it to spread his legs, giving him better access. The growl he gave was more _approval_ than _aggression,_ and Arthur was sure his dick and balls crawled so deep inside him he’d never see them again when that too-flexible tongue lapped over his pucker.

He shouted, jerked forward, but a paw lunged up to press down on his back, pinning him to the ground and, to Dutch’s glee, putting a nice arch to it that only spread him wider, giving him even better access, and the wolf began to lap at him like a beast possessed, soaking his ass with its saliva, and oh god but it kept nudging the blunt tip of its tongue against his anus until

_“Shit!”_

The tip slipped in. Arthur jolted, tried to scramble forward, but Dutch was quicker, snarled even as he continued to work that long, thin, flexible tongue inside of him and _oh_ that shouldn’t have felt so good, reaching a paw forward to hook around his thigh, knife-sharp claws digging in in warning.

“Dutch, stop!” he didn’t dare squirm, not with those claws against his leg, but it was starting to feel _good,_ his tongue hitting parts of him that sent white-hot shocks of pleasure up his spine, his cock beginning to swell with interest; and the wolf noticed, from the sound it made, an amused huff that ghosted over it and made him shudder.

“Fuck,” he dropped his head, buried his face in his arm, tried to ignore the rising pleasure, the way his cock had become erect enough that his foreskin was beginning to peel back and reveal the head, that he could feel it beginning to throb and oh but he wanted friction, pressure around him, _‘shit!’_ and Dutch’s tongue ran over _something_ inside of him and he was cumming, not even fully erect, splattering the dirt beneath him with his cum.

  
  


The sound the wolf made as it pulled its tongue free was, undeniably, a laugh. He choked on a sob, buried his face in his arm, and froze when the beast leaned forward, licking at his face with a plaintive whine.

Clearly though, it didn’t feel _too_ badly as, once he managed to catch his breath, it stepped back and gave him a few more licks between his cheeks, the tip of its tongue slipping inside his loosened asshole with each pass. 

Once it deemed him sufficiently lubricated, his anus dripping with its drool, it mounted him, and he started to panic anew. Screamed bloody murder (“HOSEA! PLEASE, HELP ME! SOMEONE, ANYONE!”), throwing all caution to the wind, fuck he didn’t care how mortified he’d be if someone found him being mounted by a wolf the size of a shire horse he could _feel the heat coming off of its penis_

but it was stronger and far heavier, one of its paws wrapped around his hip while the other kept his ass in the air by pressing against the ground, so there was nothing he could do but flail ineffectually. And then he didn’t dare do even that as the wolf - not Dutch, Dutch would never do this - hunched over him, its breath ghosting between his shoulder blades and _very close_ to his vulnerable throat.

  
  


The wolf twitched its hips forward, resting the tapered head of its cock against his hole. Pressed forward just enough that the very tip pushed inside, throbbing and hot, and Arthur trembled and shook beneath him, disturbed to realize that he could _feel_ it oozing pre-cum, splattering inside of him with each throb, “Dutch, _please…”_

But Dutch - the wolf - had run out of patience, it seemed, as it shifted on its back legs like any dog would while preparing to breed a bitch, shuffling awkwardly as it tried to make up for their size difference, adjusted its grip with the one paw wrapped around him, before bucking its hips.

Arthur screamed.

The wolf howled.

  
  


It didn’t hurt.

It was more of a pressure, really. Its cock was veritably pouring pre-cum, joining its saliva in preparing him, and its tongue had stretched him though nothing could have prepared him for just how _big_ it was, easily as wide around as the thickest point of his forearm, easily much longer, and devil take him but it felt _good,_ the swell of it pressing against every part of him that sent pleasure shooting up his spine, his cock quickly rising to drip pre-cum between his legs.

“Dutch!” he gasped, scrabbling to try and brace himself as it drew its hips back, pulling him with it until his hips brushed its own furry ones, huffing in his ear as though in warning before driving into him.

And it showed him no kindness after that. He collapsed to his elbows, had to cross his arms and drop his head to keep from braining himself as it wrapped both its forearms around his waist, no longer bothering to brace itself, allowing him to take most of his weight, and fucked him as a dog would. If it weren’t for its cock, pistoning in and out of him without care, he would have collapsed to the ground, unable to support its weight - but he dangled from it, managed eventually to get his feet up and brace himself though his knees were soaked with blood, skinned by pebbles and twigs and the friction on the dirt.

The beast jerked him back and forth, panting loudly even as it licked between his shoulder blades almost frantically, drooling and soaking his skin. His cock stood to attention and surely there was something _wrong_ because he _came,_ over and over and _over,_ even once he couldn’t anymore and could only feel that _rush,_ cock twitching and balls drawing up with nothing left to spill and, though he was _horrified_ and wanted nothing more than to be _anywhere else_ he _couldn’t stop,_ his muscles were shaking violently not just from being flung around but from the pleasure that pulsed through him, his cock was starting to ache from _too much_ and his throat was raw from screaming.

“Dutch!”

He came again, cock twitching weakly between his legs, valiantly managing a single drop of cum.

  
  


And then the wolf started doing something different.

It snarled in his ear, yanking him close until their hips knocked together, hunching so high over him that its muzzle dangled besides his face, nose nearly touching the ground. Its thrusts went shallow, barely moving at all though still it managed to slam their hips together hard enough that it hurt and he was sure he’d be bruised black and blue by morning, was going to bruise worse than when Bo had brought him slamming down hard into the cantle of her saddle.

And then it froze, and _something was growing inside him._

If it hadn’t leaned back and bit the _shit_ out of his shoulder the moment it felt him start to struggle he would have thrashed and fought and panicked, but all he could do was cry out in pain and go limp, wait as its _goddamn knot_ swelled and locked them together. And fuck, that _did_ hurt, worse than the fucking had it had to be as big as both his fists together, though there were tiny pricks of pleasure for the most part it _burned_ and he spread his legs, arched his back to try and lessen the pain, all the beast did was give tiny little aborted bucks of its hips, the sounds it made next to his ear, muffled by his skin in its mouth, pure pleasure.

Finally it stilled, releasing his shoulder to lap at the broken skin in a way that was almost apologetic at the same time he felt a pulsing rush of warmth and _oh god it was coming in him,_ _he could feel his stomach swelling, he could feel the cum sloshing around oh god,_ sighing happily before turning its head and licking his face though he tried to turn away, aiming for, and getting, his lips in a horrible mockery of a kiss.

It whined as though disappointed when he didn’t react, squeezing his eyes shut as they burned suspiciously, before pulling away, releasing its grip on his waist and swinging around, throwing a leg over so it could stand rump to rump, satisfied that its bitch was thoroughly bred.

Its knot pulled at his ass, and he came again.


End file.
